When a God Dies
by Kai the Brony
Summary: AU. It's funny, really, a god coming to terms with his own mortality. At least, I think I am a god. I can't be sure of anything, my mind is so blurry. Oneshot.


**Okay, this story is going to be a little different from most stories on the website. For starts, Loki and Thor are wolves (don't worry, this doesn't get very anthro). I played Loki in a RPG and this post turned out so well I thought it could work as a freestanding, albeit short, story. A little backstory might help. Arsione and Loki were mates, but Loki began hanging around with some rough, evil wolves and his true dark self came out. He murdered their pups because he thought they were weak, and abandoned Arsione, who has been out for his blood ever since.**

**Years later he came to Abendrot, a pack of evil wolves in Blossom Forest (my favorite RPG) when he heard they were looking for prisoners to take over some packs. Eager to find a place in this new home he joined the pack, not knowing that Arsione was already there and was developing a soft spot for her prisoner. He and she got in a fight when he threatened her prisoner, and he won and abandoned her in the mud once again to go to the pack meeting. Kershov is the alpha of Abendrot, and is very awesome if I do say so myself.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel's Loki in any way, shape, or form. Arsione is property of Alice, Kershov belongs to LSVK, and Abendrot is the creative property of Sandra, creator of Blossom Forest. I don't own them either.**

I had glowed with pride. Kershov had given me the rank of a spy with Abendrot. It looked like I could make something of myself after all. I had smirked, imagining the face on my brother if he were to find out that I am not the puny runt I had been born to be, the outcast I had been condemned to be. We always were as different as day and night, my brother and I. He is big and brawny, with thick golden fur. I sneer at the memory of Odin's son. To be frank, he did not receive the lion's share of brains. I, on the other hand, am small, dark, and sleek, and actually possess a brain.

I am a fool. In my bliss and pride I had let my guard down. And then she came.

Arsione was light on her feet as she had always been, but I should have heard her coming. I had maimed her, and left her in the stinking mud to mask my scent. I had believed her dead when Taylor, her adoptive daughter (oh, pardon me, prisoner) had returned. After a brief spat with some squirrel (well, a wolf, but what wolf spends their time up a tree?) Taylor figured out the obvious.

We're famous for our morals. Or perhaps the lack thereof.

She caught me. I hear her only the moment before she closes her jaws around my throat. For a moment it is simple, though intense, pressure, but then her teeth break my skin. They do not stop there, but barely before hitting the vital artery in my maw. Pain burns down my nerves, and despite myself I whimper. I don't have time to be humiliated by the childishness of the cry, the pain occupies my entire being.

She releases me at last, and the pain is even worse as she pulls her daggers out.

Huzzah. The pain has been doubled.

I can't even groan the pain is too great. I can almost sense Arsione standing over me, her smile red with my own blood. For the first time in my life, I am very much afraid. The pain slowly lessens to the extent that I am capable of speech.

"Kill... own packmate," I slurred. "Not... goo..." I am disturbed at the change in my voice. My once silver tongue is low, and rattling. I cough up blood, its taste is bitter and coppery. I loath its slippery texture, and the fact that I have just now realized how much I depend on it to live. I try to stand up, I almost succeed. I even make it to my feet for a moment. My legs shake, first a little, but then violently. They turn to jelly and I find myself on the ground again, not entirely sure how I had gotten there.

I am in a pool of my own blood. The pool is growing larger as I watch, and it is quickly coming to the point that I know that I will die. It's funny, really, a god coming to terms with his own mortality.

At least, I think that's what I am. I can't be sure of anything now, my mind is so blurry. My vision has stopped warping and has completely failed me. Nobody in the pack notices my plight, they are all too busy quarreling among themselves. The mortals are so petty.

I can no longer howl or speak. A numbness is creeping up from my stomach and spreading through my body. I am slowly shutting down, and it is only a matter of time until it reaches my brain. I can't panic. I don't even care about anything now. I just wait for it all to end.

I could lie to myself and say that I had a sudden revelation and repented of all my wrong doings, but does that seem like something I would do? I may be the god of trickery, but I won't waste my time inventing a tale when it doesn't matter.

My heart stutters, and I know my minutes are running out. There is nothing for me to do but give in and wait.

**Please review, it would really make my day. Did you like it? Or was it just strange?**


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